


It's Okay to Loose Control (Controlling Control)

by KrispenKreme



Series: Controlling Control [2]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hints of Gyuhao, Mental Health Issues, Minghao has OCD, OCD, Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, Other members just mentioned, because i'm trash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-08
Updated: 2017-09-08
Packaged: 2018-12-25 09:10:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12032760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KrispenKreme/pseuds/KrispenKreme
Summary: One of the hardest things about having OCD, Minghao decided, was accepting he actually had it.





	It's Okay to Loose Control (Controlling Control)

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I'm back, yaaayyy.  
> Just like the first part of this series, it's basically my projecting my fucked up fears onto my bias because that's what you do with the ones you love.  
> I hope you enjoy, please leave kudos and comment, I'm not scary I promise.

One of the hardest things about having OCD, Minghao decided, was accepting he actually had it.  


It had been months since he started seeing a therapist yet a part of him still carried on believing he was just being over dramatic, and any mention of the disorder filled Minghao’s soul with guilt.  


He had been taught in school that OCD was washing your hands until they bled, doing things a certain amount of times before you could leave the house, that it was serious and influenced your life so much so that you couldn’t function. He had been taught that that was all OCD was, no exceptions. So what Minghao did couldn’t possibly be OCD, because he didn’t scrub his skin raw and he only had to close things once before he was allowed to use them. Who was he to say he had this illness? Compared to all of the people who struggled everyday the dancer felt that he had no place to talk about such things.  


It was frustrating to say the least. He finally had an answer to all of his strange behavior, a reason why he held his breath and pulled out his eyebrow hairs and made his cuticles bleed from picking at them, yet his mind kept screaming at him to not talk about it. Minghao felt like his sane side and less-than-sane side were playing tug-of-war with his patience, a game where the latter side is winning.  


Luckily it wasn’t all bad. In the months Minghao had been getting help for his...difficulties, his members had taken it upon themselves to help him in any small way they could.  


\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  


“Let’s take a break guys.”  


Moans of relief overtook the room, multiple bodies collapsing onto the hardwood floor in exhaustion while others braced themselves against the walls. Minghao, who was lying parallel to the large mirror at the front, dragged his thin frame into a sitting position and turned to face his reflection.  


Somewhere in the back of his mind a voice was warning him not to look, and Minghao knew that voice was right, but just like every time he’s been in this position he smothered said voice with a pillow and leaned forward. Seeing minuscule blemishes come into focus, the dancer’s mind fogged over, and his body took control. Like a hunter searching for prey, his fingers pulled at the skin of his forehead in any way possible until a blackhead was found. Then he would pinch and dig into the spot until the infection was removed.  


This continued for as long as he could go, until the face looking back at him was glowing red and ached from relentless prodding.  


This continued until Minghao had control again, because this wasn’t something he was ever proud of doing.  


This continued until Mingyu walked over and sprawled across the younger’s back.  


“So Jun-hyung challenged me to a smolder off and we needed a referee, right? Right. And I asked Wonwoo-hyung because that’s his specialty but of course the big dork took it as an invitation to join as a contestant, which leads us to now because they’re currently undressing each other with their eyes and I’m missing out so I’m giving you the honor of judging who’s winning.”  


To outsiders this would have appeared as the puppy-like idol being silly, or “extra” as the fans liked to call them; but Minghao knew better.  


Picking, the term many use for what Minghao does, is something the dancer resents completely. Growing up people would constantly comment on it. “What are you looking for?”, “What are you doing?”, “Do you need a shovel for all that digging?”  


It was embarrassing.  


Not just that, his parents would confiscate anything they caught him using to pick. Nail clippers, cuticle cutters, nail files, and tweezers were all outlawed for years. The boy would still find a way, either by using admittedly dangerous things he found around the house or by smuggling the contraband out of his parents room when they weren’t looking. The fact that all of his family was clued in and watching him, judging him, as he subconsciously scratched at his face or pinched his upper arms was humiliating.  


And Mingyu knew that.  


So when the elder saw Minghao leaning into the mirror he didn’t comment on it, didn’t pull his hands away or bring attention to it at all, and for that Minghao will always be grateful.  


“What would I get as payment for such a highly coveted position, Mingyu-ssi?”  


Mingyu’s face light up, canines exposed, “Why I’m glad you asked Minghao-nim. Compensation for you time would be a magnificent dinner payed for by the winner, along with the opportunity at staring at three handsome men, of course.”  


Shaking his head, Minghao got up and offered his hand to the other, helping him up. Almost out of instinct he swung his arm around Mingyu’s shoulders. “Then how could I refuse such an offer? Lead the way Mingyu-ssi!”  


\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  


Unfortunately not all of Minghao’s compulsions could be eased with witty banter. Sometimes the intrusive thoughts infect his conscious so intensely there is no easy fix.  


Jeonghan was the one who found him pressed up against the wall of the kitchen, as far as he could get from the sink full of dishes. The boy was sobbing and tugging at his hair, anger evident in his expression.  


The elder darted to the dancer, gently prying his hands out from his scalp. “Minghao-ah, what’s wrong?” Concern flooded his voice. Minghao let out an awkward hybrid of a sob and a sniffle, choking on his words. Unable to talk, he just threw his hand at the other side of the room as if a horrendous monster was there.  


Jeonghan looked over his shoulder and spotted the sink, a spoon on the counter covered in suds along with a soaked rag on the floor. “The dishes? I- I don’t understand, what happened? Did you hurt yourself? Break something?” The younger’s head jerked left and right in denial.  


“It-it’s just a stu-pid spoon-n! I should be able to wash a stupid spo-oon! Bu-but I keep thinking about people using i-it and, and… ” Minghao’s hysteria increased with each word, causing him to become incoherent yet gain.  


The elder shushed the younger, pulling him to his chest and petting his hair soothingly. Minghao’s sobs overtook him once more. It was frightening to see the his dongsaeng like this, so frustrated and anxious, and while Jeonghan still didn’t completely understand what was going on he was starting to piece things together.  


“You kept thinking about us using them and you started panicking?” The poor boy gave a minuscule nod, afraid of admitting something that was seemingly so ridiculous to him. Minutes went by with Jeonghan stroking the other’s head and murmuring comforts. Eventually Minghao’s anxiety began to diminish and he took a deep breath, pulling together a fragile mockery of control.  


“I thought I could do it, it’s such an easy thing and you all work so hard and I felt bad for not washing them once and while so I figured, “Hey, I’ll just wear some gloves and use a lot of water and all will be fine.” But the gloves didn’t work out because I got food on them and flipped,” Minghao laughed wetly, “Practically shot ‘em off of my hand because I didn’t want the germs to soak through. And before you say anything I know that’s not how it works.”  


The two had moved to the floor, still pressed to the wall, and Jeonghan had lessened his grip on Minghao’s form. He was positioned up against the paneling with his dongsaeng laying on his chest, head cushioned in the crook of Jeonghan’s neck. Jeonghan nudged the boy softly, urging him to continue.  


“I- I um...I was scared… my mind kept screaming at me, you know.. “Don’t touch it, don’t touch it, don’t touch it. Touch it and you’re gonna be gross and nasty and horrible and everyone will hate you.” Again, I know it doesn’t work that way but I think the um… OCD...That makes me believe it’s truth as well, if that makes sense.”  


It did, or at least it did for the elder. His logical side knew that those thoughts weren’t realistic, and that touching something wouldn’t change his personality; yet the side affected by the disorder was louder and more persuasive. It’s like how people can be terrified of spiders. They know that most of them won’t hurt you, but everything part of their being tells them to run away.  


Minghao continued on after Jeonghan nudged him again, “But I wanted to do it. I had to do it. So I got a rag and got a spoon out of the sink and tried to scrub it…” His face twisted into a grimace, “It was awful. I don’t think I’ve ever had that many thoughts all at once, and they were getting louder and louder. All these different outcomes, different ways I would be infected and just images of globs of spit on everything.”  


Nausea was evidently taking over Minghao’s stomach, not that Jeonghan blamed him. He didn’t even have OCD and those visuals were making him sick.  


“And then I panicked again, but by the time you got here I wasn’t really scared...more mad at myself.”  
“Why are you mad at yourself?”  


Minghao jolted away from his hyung, sitting ramrod straight , “Because It’s so stupid! I’m being a baby and I need to get over it. You guys work so hard and you shouldn’t have to do another chore just ‘cause I’m a spoiled brat!”  


“Minghao, what did you do last night?”  


“I..I worked on the choreo for our comeback with Hoshi-hyung.”  


“And the night before that?”  


“...Stayed up with Junnie-hyung practicing Korean.”  


Jeonghan smiled, smoothing down a stray lock of hair on Minghao’s head. “Do I need to go on? You work just as hard as everyone else, so why should you have to do something that upsets you this much when one of us can do it instead? And if you wanted to help so badly, you can always just put them away right?”  


The younger smiled back, “Yeah.”  


........  


.....  


“Thanks hyung.”  


“Anytime, my little fairy.”  


\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  


Things aren’t always perfect. Obviously.  


OCD isn’t something cute or easy to live through, and even a mild case such as Minghao’s still has it’s ups and downs. While it was hard to accept at first, it’s something the dancer has learned through time.  


He’s eternally grateful to his members, his brothers, for everything they do. There are countless occasions where he has broken down only for Jun or Seokmin, or any of his twelve wonderful friends, to step in and pull him back. Not just the times that Mingyu distracts him, or the times Jeonghan reminds him he’s a human too, but also when Wonwoo hands him the spare face mask he carries for when Minghao is sick of holding his breath, and when Joshua takes him shopping for incense to burn in the house because he can’t stand strong fragrances. Each and every one means so much to Minghao.  


And while he still fears his disorder becoming worse, knowing of all the support he has somehow mutes it just enough for Minghao to go on with his day.  


Are his intrusive thoughts getting worse? Yes. He can barely touch other people sometimes.  
Are his compulsions getting worse? Yes. He can’t go a day without unknowingly holding his breath until he almost passes out.  


But is he alone? No.  


And sometimes that’s all you need.

**Author's Note:**

> I really hope you liked it. This... took a lot for me to do honestly. I actually gave myself a panic attack once or twice but what are you gonna do, am I right?  
> Let me know if you have any questions about anything, and please please please leave a comment! It really does mean the world to writers.  
> (Doesn't even have to be an essay, just comment a heart and I'll be good.)  
> Until next time! <3


End file.
